


Claws

by TerokNorTailor



Category: Farscape
Genre: Alien Biology, BDSM, Bloodplay, Blow Jobs, M/M, Military Ranks, just some good Peacekeeper recreation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-15
Updated: 2015-02-15
Packaged: 2018-03-13 02:47:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,766
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3364865
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TerokNorTailor/pseuds/TerokNorTailor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's time for Scorpius to take care of an annoying problem arising from his hybrid Scarran and Sebacean anatomy, and he calls upon his loyal Second in Command for help.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Claws

“It’s time again.”

The words fell like hot black oil upon Miklo Braca’s ears.

“Sir?”

The familiar pushing sensation upon his gloved fingertips had been getting steadily worse for weeks. Scorpius hadn’t had the time to take care of it due to a particular Human thorn in his side.

Braca noticed his superior flexing his long fingers in front of his face as he reclined. They were stiff, and each extreme of movement produced an almost imperceptible hiss of air through tightly clenched teeth.

“Shall I fetch Froy?” The visage of Scorpius’s nurse came into view within Braca’s mind. She was looking at him, eyes wide, before his fist hit flesh. A flash of blue fell to the floor and she was gone.

“I think not.” Scorpius could not help seeing a self-satisfied smirk steal its way onto his Lieutenant’s lips. “After all, I do not think I can – we can – fully trust her after what happened last time.”

A kaleidoscope of red and blue lighting played on black scales as the Commander motioned toward a medstation panel integrated into the wall.

“Third drawer down, second compartment.”

Braca nodded. He lifted the elongated metal object out of its padded home and checked to see if the blade was sharp. The small drop of blood that appeared on his fingertip answered his question. Not daring to delay the procedure any longer, he deftly navigated the steps upwards to his Commander’s seat.

Scorpius had put aside the datachip given to him earlier by Strappa and had already began undoing the wrist seals that kept his gloves firmly in place when a glint of red on one of the Sebacean’s digits caught his eye.

Before he knew what was happening, Braca’s wrist was seized by one of those still gloved hands and a pair of black-tinged lips encircled his index finger. He couldn’t help but lock his own gaze with the pale blue eyes above.

Scorpius tasted iron, relishing the thought of having his own blood run the same red, and slid his tongue down the length of the underside of his second in command’s extremity before letting go and presenting his own hands to be unsheathed.

Taking a microt to breathe, Braca kneeled down and placed the small motorized saw down on the side table, making sure to keep the blade pointed away from the datachip. Just in case.

“Don’t bother being gentle.”

Braca took the wrist hem of Scorpius’s left glove in his fingers and slowly peeled it back. A low growl emanated from black-gummed teeth.

The skin underneath was pale.

So pale.

Pale and covered in a regular pattern of scars – abrasions from underlying seams and coolant ducts.

It had been so long since the gloves had been removed.

The skin was cracking in places that had become desiccated due to a lack of regular exposure to moisture. Congealed yellow scabs stiffened his fingers at crucial points of movement.

Each individual emaciated digit was tipped with the source of the problem at hand.

For weeks now, Scorpius’s ever-growing claws threatened to puncture the fabric of his coolant suit. They now had an overhang of over half a metril and were banded with subtle variations of black highlighted with something that could barely be considered yellow. Today, it was Braca’s job to get rid of that.

He looked up into his Commander’s eyes, which were still despite the subtle nod that tipped his visage, and turned on the saw. The whine filled the immediate vicinity as he bore down on the first talon.

High pitched sound waves scratched at the exposed eardrums underneath the noise-dampening hood. They were not disagreeable, as their presence served to indicate the necessary activity that was going on.  He felt his thumb lighten slightly as the keratinous overgrowth fell to the floor. His lieutenant’s hands were deft and sure, truly those of a trained pilot and excellent marksman, taking care of the four remaining talons in a matter of minutes.

“Shall we do the other hand now, sir?” Braca looked up from his kneeling position, his eyes glazed over with reflections of red, white, and black. The corners of his mouth were pulled upwards ever so slightly, effecting an air of subtle smugness on top of the confidence he perpetually radiated.

Scorpius said nothing, save for the low satisfied vibration that emanated from his throat. He placed one of his ungloved fingers under Braca’s chin. Strange, he still noticed the Sebacean’s slightly cooler body temperature. He felt his Lieutenant swallow as he drew their faces together to place a well-deserved kiss on waiting lips.

Their jaws opened and closed synchronously as they tasted each other yet again.

As they parted, the different consistencies of their saliva formed a web of salty strings tinged with red iron as Scarran teeth were not at all gentle on Sebacean flesh.

“Not yet…”

Scorpius touched the glowing panel affixed next to his command office chair, and a whine emanated from the chamber door as it locked and the panes of glass around the room went opaque.

He slowly stripped off his other glove with his now more dexterous and free hand, exposing five more shining black claws. Standing up to his full height, he approached his Lieutenant. Scorpius deftly undid Braca’s collar and forced the magnetized placket to separate, revealing a well-muscled chest covered in a thin layer of synthetic grey.

A smile curled on the corner of Braca’s mouth as he looked up at his Commander. Four lines of pain crossed his chest as the hand still tipped with talons swiped in a diagonal, tearing the thin fabric of his undershirt. The smile widened even more as Scorpius’s tongue lapped up the red liquid before it could even start to drip. The next thing he knew was the taste of his own blood in his mouth as Scorpius lifted him up into another embrace, thrusting his tongue deep into his mouth.

The black and red uniform jacket fell to the floor and was followed soon by the undershirt, now stained red where the fabric had been torn.  Sebacean medical technology was some of the best in the Galaxy, yet incomparable to the Diagnosians, so scars latticed the flesh of Scorpius’s Lieutenant.

Three more wouldn’t matter.

Unscarred flesh was a mark of failure among the Peacekeepers, and there was much success among the both of them.

Scorpius beckoned to Braca with a curling claw, leading him back up towards the red-upholstered command chair, setting himself down with a flourish.

“Braca,” Scorpius purred, “Give me what I want.”

The Lieutenant approached with light in his eyes and a smile curling at the corner of his mouth. The blood welling up on his chest glinted like rubies.

He knelt down and let his tongue slide up the black leather of the coolant suit, starting at the pointed toe and trailing along the inseam until he reached the protective scaled cup between his Commander’s legs.

“Always…”

Scorpius wove his clawed fingers into Braca’s short hair as he felt deft, knowing fingers undo the closure, hissing in pain as the piece of rigid leather-covered plastic was removed.

Braca regarded Scorpius’s hybrid anatomy with wonder, the milky translucent flesh rippling with yellowish veins permanently thrust outwards between two muscular lips. Pure Scarrans held theirs internally, but hybridization with a Sebacean had assured that the vulnerable piece of tissue stayed outside of Scorpius’s body, to his extreme discomfort before he donned the coolant suit. It was without the sac below that usually belonged to corresponding Sebacean anatomy, since those organs had remained internal.

Scorpius felt soft, yet deliberate strokes as Braca started to massage him. He felt blood rush downwards and could see small rivulets of steam rise as Braca’s hands moved back and forth along his length.

Braca could feel Scorpius engorging within his grasp, and before he could say anything, even a word of admiration, a bolt of pain shot through his scalp as Scorpius grasped his hair and pushed him forward. No one was frelling around today. Scorpius knew what he wanted, and so did Braca.

Scorpius locked eyes with his Lieutenant for a minute or two as he started to manipulate him into the perfect position. Waves of pleasure vibrated through his body as Braca’s tightened lips skipped from vein to vein. Everything was as it had been countless times before, save for one thing.

Braca’s head jerked upwards, still locked in Scorpius’s grasp. He gulped air into his lungs, tasting the distinctive non-taste of the onboard air scrubbers. Scorpius leaned down once more for a kiss.

This time, Scorpius made sure to catch a bit of Braca’s inner mouth flesh in his teeth. He bit down hard and tasted that delicious red iron. He loved Braca’s half-surprised, half-grateful face every time they did this, knowing that he’d never see it upon John Crichton’s visage.

He pushed Braca back down, but before he forced himself back into that eager mouth, he took the untrimmed black claw on his thumb and cut a small vein on his own shaft. A weal of yellow-white blood rose up beyond the surface.

Braca licked off his Commander’s blood, the fresh wound stinging with the introduction of the familiar substance. He loved the taste of their life as it melded together, tasting of iron, salt, ozone, and oil. Low guttural moans vibrated Scorpius’s entire being as Braca worked to push him over the edge. 

Pain, warm and tingly, flowed between them. Braca’s jaw ached, but he kept on.

Scorpius was close now, his breathing ragged. He could almost feel the coolant rod embedded in his cranium turn from blue to a warm purple as he approached climax. It would need replacing soon.

A low rumble started to emanate from Scorpius’s being. Braca knew Scorpius was just a couple microts away. He made himself go deeper and more deliberate. Scorpius roared. A malicious sound flanged with a higher timbre that would set a rage in any other Peacekeeper’s heart. But not his. A salty slick flood erupted into his mouth as Scorpius came. It mixed with the taste of their blood already in his mouth. He continued to suck, wanting to finish off every last bit of orgasm Scorpius was having, and two more smaller waves of hot liquid entered his mouth.

Scorpius let Braca slowly pull away from him, strings of steaming fluid still connecting them together. Braca licked all of it off, and Scorpius watched the bump on his throat bob up and down slowly as he swallowed every last drop.

“Good…”

 


End file.
